Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 103: Chapter 103

I’m losing my mind.
The woman was driving me bananas. Or maybe it was just being close to her and not being able to do a thing about it.
Days had passed and Weylin was no closer to Gwen than he’d been since their first meeting. Okay. Not true. He actually got closer back then. At least she’d let him kiss her. Sort of. Fine, he stole that kiss.
Grrr.
His dick thumped in his jeans, and he growled in frustration. He watched her move and bit back his moan. The woman had the most glorious ass Weylin had ever seen. And he meant that in a totally non-creepy stalkerish kinda way. He just could not stop stealing glances at the thing. She was on a whole other level of fuckable.
Shit.
His jeans were too damn tight. He’d even gone commando, but that provided no relief at all. Another bite of his lip and a stifled growl as she bent down to retrieve a new bottle of simple syrup from the bottom shelf behind the bar.
Wanna bend her over. Snuggle in behind. Grab those thick thighs with my hands. Spread em wide. Fill her so deep. Yes. Yes. NO!
He should not be thinking things like that about his future mate. Well, his would be future mate if he could only get her to pay attention to him might be a more apt title. Problem was, the little human didn’t even seem to notice.
“Weylin, I mean it. I won’t sleep with you,”
Her words replayed in his head, but what could he do about it? She was not kidding when she talked about her promise to stay a virgin until she married. In his relationships before, when words failed him, Weylin had been a fan of using kisses to make up for it. Well, more than kisses, but if Gwen said no to sex, then what was a guy to do?
Not to mention the fact that Derrick had all but ordered him to stay away from her. He was to give no hint or suggestion that she was his mate. Fucking Alphahole had pretty much decided to cockblock Weylin for life!
He thought having a human mate might fuck things up for the Pack, and he wasn’t having that with his own mate being ready to drop her pup any day now.
It wasn’t fair. But again, what could he do about it? Weylin just wanted the same opportunity to have his own happily ever after ending that Derrick and several of the other Dire Wolves in their former MC had found. Was that so wrong?
“One part vodka, then add fresh lemon juice,” she murmured, probably thinking she was speaking too low for him to hear.
If he was human, that might have been true. But he wasn’t.
And therein lies the rub, he mused, with an expression of distaste on his face.
Still, it was cute the way she recited each recipe as she worked, even if she presumed it was to herself. Gwendolyn was going over a list of signature cocktails featured at Serious Moonlight that Sheila had given her when Weylin walked into the bar.
Technically, he was not supposed to work today, but he’d asked Derrick to switch his schedule, so he had every shift she had. It was the least his Alpha could do. Lucy had supported his request, for which she had his eternal gratitude. The Alpha fem was a hopeless romantic, and she’d argued that Gwen could hardly fall for Weylin on her own without being near him.
Smart lady.
Three days had passed, and so far, nothing. That meant Weylin had seventy-two hours of staying within her periphery. It damn near killed him being so close, and yet so far. Sure, Derrick took pity on him, giving him the same schedule just to get him out of his hair.
But that wasn’t enough to get the sexy as all get female to look his way. Weylin stifled a yawn. He was running himself ragged following her home and standing guard outside her door in his Wolf form every night.
What else could he do? That place was a hellhole frequented by all types of unsavory folks. Humans were bad enough, but he scented one or two supes in the area, and that did not sit well with him at all. He wished he could just take her home with him to the Pack House, but that was a no-no.
Even if Derrick allowed it, Gwen wasn’t anywhere near ready for him to reveal the truth about himself, let alone what she was to him.
“You got this,” Sheila said.
Gwendolyn nodded and lifted the cocktail shaker, mobbing it back and forth at ear level. She was in the process of prepping one of every cocktail. Something all new bartenders had to do before they could pass muster.
He was pleasantly surprised watching her work. She had real potential. There was music pumping through the speakers, country western tonight, and there was already a pretty nice early dinner crowd. Some dudes were seated at the bar drinking beers, and a group of older women were having martinis and sharing a tapas tower. But none of it seemed to mess with Gwen’s concentration.
Weylin had been keeping a close eye on her, and for a religious woman, she was not easily shaken. Thank fuck. When she’d told him that about herself, he thought maybe he had misheard. Why on earth would the Fates match a rounder like him with an angel like her?
Someone messed up, or maybe Derrick was right, and he got it all wrong. But nope. Weylin spent the last few days trailing her on two legs and four and he was more certain than ever. Gwendolyn Hoffer was supposed to be his.
“Weylin, can you take over? I’m going out for a bit with Leo to check our venue,” Sheila called, breaking his train of thought.
He blinked, gaze shooting right over to where Gwen was pouring her next drink. She didn’t even bother to glance at him. Shit. What was wrong with him? Did she find him unattractive? Too burly? Maybe she just didn’t go for redheads.
Sad and dejected, he walked over to where the two females worked, staying on the opposite side of the bar. He just didn’t trust himself to be any closer to her than that.
“Yep, I got it,” he replied softly.
He sat down on a barstool and watching Gwen with a steady gaze. She glanced at him. Barely. It might have been a trick of the light. But he thought he saw her brown eyes widen for a moment. His Dire Wolf hummed with approval. Maybe she was aware of him on some level, at least. Even if she’d been doing her best to act like the other day hadn’t happened.
He'd practically spent the entire day with her. After a friend of the Pack set him up with an established U-drive account, it was nothing at all to wait for her to order a car. He’d been surprised at the destination, but it did not matter. He would’ve driven her to Timbuktu if that was where she wanted to go.
She didn’t know it, of course, but the feisty female was safe as could be with him. The fact she seemed to relax in his presence after some initial awkwardness warmed the beast within him. She hadn’t expected more from him than a ride, but when he walked her inside and voiced his intentions to stay with her, she seemed grateful.
Poor thing, having to go through all that alone. He didn’t know how she did it. Being born in a Pack meant you had people with you to back you up, bolster you, and offer support whether you wanted it or not. It was a choice sure, but Gwendolyn did not have that option.
Now she does. We’ll be her Pack, his Wolf inserted.
His mind kept wandering back to that day, and he wondered what he’d done wrong to make her keep her distance ever since. Maybe Weylin had been too much, forcing his company on her by waiting in the hallway while Gwendolyn went inside Pop’s room. Or perhaps, he hadn’t done enough. The not knowing was eating at him, and the Wolf was getting antsy.
He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, he couldn’t help but overhear the doctor’s prognosis. It was not good, but the older man was comfortable at least. No pain, that was what she’d begged, and Weylin’s Wolf had raged at that.
“Well?” Gwen’s soft voice asked the doctor, and Weylin heard the plea behind her words.
“No change, Ms. Hoffer. He is comfortable for now, but the most recent scan showed a series of minor strokes. It is highly unlikely Mr. Hoffer will get out of bed again. I am very sorry,” the doctor stated.
“Oh no. Poor Pop,” she’d murmured, tears in her voice.
Weylin had heard all he could take without moving into action. In half a second, he was beside her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and miracle of miracles, she’d leaned into him for support. The doctor waited for her to nod, and she did, then he went ahead and explained the test results in more detail.
He was so fucking relieved when she didn’t back up or push him away. In fact, her tiny hand latched onto his as she allowed herself to rest against him. Taking comfort in his body was a gift he never expected, and fuck was it beautiful.
“Thank you, doctor,” she had said when the man had finished his long speech.
Weylin had tried to listen to his words, but being so close to her had filled his senses. After hearing the news about her grandfather’s condition, Gwendolyn had a moment of pure despair that was so heartbreaking all he could do was hold her while she cried.
Seeing her so upset was super hard, but hearing her plead with someone made him want to kill things. Lucky for the doctor, the man had been gentle when explaining their standard of care was to ensure all patients were very comfortable as they transitioned from this stage of life to the next.
Afterward, she sat by her grandfather, read to him. She cared for him and spent some time with the staff as well. Weylin waited in the hall, not wanting to intrude, but he heard everything, and his heart swelled with respect and affection for this intriguing woman.
Strong. Passionate. Loyal woman. Soft heart. Good heart.
They’d stayed a couple of hours, and when she was finished, he’d led the way back to his SUV, allowing the silence to envelop them like a safety blanket in the vehicle. The emotional and physical toll of seeing someone you loved suffer that way was unthinkable to him.
Dire Wolf Shifters lived very long lives, and illness rarely played a part. After a moment, his Gwendolyn with the pretty brown eyes had turned to him and thanked him—him, Weylin Scott, newly reformed playboy who no one takes seriously—for just being there with her. Like that was a hardship.
His heart thudded at the memory, and his Wolf bayed like a wild thing inside him.
“I’m so sorry for what you are going through, Gwendolyn. I know my opinion might not mean anything to you, but I think you’re an incredible person. You care so much, sweetheart. I have never met anyone like you. And, this might not seem like much, but I am here for you if you need a hand, or a shoulder, or an ear, or anything at all.”
He thought for sure he’d blown it. His Wolf was about to chew him a new asshole, but then she smiled through her tears. It was one of those tentative ones, watery, and kind of trembly. But maybe that was why it struck him like lightning.
Precious. Fleeting. Honest. Gift.
It was a moment he would never forget. Even now, he coveted it, cradling the memory to his heart and mind. Burying it deep so no one could ever take it from him.
“Thank you, Weylin. But you’re wrong, it does mean a lot. You don’t seem like the kind of guy who makes promises like that to just anyone, and I am touched, even if maybe I don’t deserve them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Despite what you saw, I’m not especially good or anything. It’s just, he’s my Pop.”
“We can agree to disagree on you being especially good. Now, wanna go grab something to eat with me?”
He’d asked her to get food with him, even held his breath, waiting for her answer. Thank fuck, Gwendolyn had said yes. Driving an hour out of his way to feed her hot dogs from a famous hole in the wall grill that’d been serving the same deep fried dogs for over seventy-five years was fun.
She had scoffed at first, doubting any hot dog was worth the ride, but after her first bite, the girl was hooked. Damn, she was special. He had never had so much fun with a woman. She was even cute when she belched behind her napkin after she had polished off her third hot dog loaded with house-made relish and a tall, cold birch beer.
Gwen had been mortified until he let one rip out his mouth, then she just laughed till she almost fell out of her chair. Afterward, they shared a huge slice of cherry pie, covered in real whipped cream, and then he brought her to the roadhouse to get ready for work.
Fun woman. Sexy, too.